The Executive's Secretary
by H. L. Wampler
Summary: Piper Troy did not go to college for six years to get Bryce Thompson his coffee every morning. Unfortunately for jobs are short and he pays his executive administrative assistant very well. Thankfully his last one had a nervous breakdown and quit. The only thing standing in her way to the top and her own breakdown is the infuriating Bryce. On the eve of his company's biggest ac
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Executive Administrative Assistant to Bryce Thompson.

That's what my placard says.

That's my job title.

I'm the glorified secretary to the country's youngest, richest, and most gorgeous asshole.

If I had known just what Bryce Thompson was like I never would have begged my professor to write that letter of recommendation for her brother. My heart stopped and my stomach heaved at the sound of his voice. He was gorgeous, mysterious, and utterly despicable. I don't know how the other women in the office didn't see it. I don't know why they all swoon at the site of him. He makes me want to vomit in the nearest waste basket.

"Troy!"

 _Ugh. Now what does the Lord of Liberty Avenue want?_

"Troy! Where are you?" His baritone voice thundered from beyond the office doors.

"Be right there, Mr. Thompson." I took a few deep breaths and dragged myself up from the desk. I tugged at the bottom of my skirt and straightened my jacket.

 _Heaven forbid Master see a sloppy slave. Alright, Piper. Just go in and get it over with. What could the jackass possibly have to yell at you about today?_

Bryce Thompson had to be the most pig-headed, pompous bastard that walked the face of the earth.

"Piper."

"Yes, Mr. Thompson?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"What time is it?"

"I believe it is eight o'clock, Mr. Thompson."

"You believe it is?" He folded his deliciously soft hands under his chin and peered up at me with piercing green eyes. He blinked slowly, cocking his head to the side. He was irritated, and I could hear that voice counting to ten inside his head.

"It _is_ eight o'clock, Mr. Thompson." I clenched my teeth and balled my hands into tight fists at my sides. I wanted to deck him in his perfect veneered teeth. Instead I forced my best smile.

"Is there anything missing off of my desk, _Piper_?"

I shuddered at the sound of my first name. It was smooth as melted chocolate flowing over a conveyer belt of caramel. _I could eat him up._ I bit my lip banishing the thoughts from my mind.

I quickly scanned his desk for anything the horrible bastard could be missing. Everything he needed was right in front of him. "No. I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson."

"Coffee, Piper. Where is my coffee?" He arched his eyebrows, extending his arms in front of me.

I closed my eyes slowly and took a deep breath before opening them again. _Six fucking years of college to be his coffee bitch? I'm fifty thousand dollars in debt to get that bastard fucking coffee? What the fuck?_

"Please forgive me, Mr. Thompson. It must have slipped my mind."

"It must have. Cynthia never forgot."

 _Seriously?_ "Cynthia also had a mental breakdown after working for you for three months."

"Yes, well not everyone can handle the stress of working for a genius," he grumbled.

"Not everyone can handle working for a dick," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"What kind of creamer would you like in your coffee?" I asked, faking my best smile.

"Almond," he snapped.

"Absolutely, Sir."

I closed the door and stood there for a long minute.

"Geez, Pipes."

"I forgot his Lords coffee."

"Uh oh. Did he give you the third degree?" Alyssa, the tall brunette who worked across the aisle from me, asked.

"No. He so pleasantly reminded me that Cynthia _never_ forgot."

"Cynthia went crazy. Because of him."

"Apparently it wasn't _his_ fault. She just couldn't handle his _genius."_ I rubbed my eyes and walked toward the kitchen.

"Use his favorite mug."

"Yeah, yeah."

The office kitchen was empty. A mess but empty. I dug through the cabinets but of course Bryce's favorite mug was missing.

"Oh come on. Why? Of all days for someone to be a total prick and take that stupid, fucking mug!"

"You're talking to yourself, Piper," a familiar voice said off to the side.

"Robby! Do you know where that dumb, blue Harvard mug is?"

"Um, I think John from accounting has it."

"What? He did not go to Harvard. God, Mr. Thompson is in one of his moods and I need that mug."

"Use his number one boss mug. He'll get over it." He smirked.

"I doubt it."

"Did you forget his coffee again?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, letting my head fall into my hands. "Today sucks."

"Sit down. I'll make the coffee." He grabbed my hand and led me to a small round table and handing me a stale donut that had been sitting out for who knows how long.

"Thanks, Robby." I picked it apart, watching the crumbs fall through the cracks to the filthy floor below.

"Don't think anything of it. Just let me buy you a drink sometime."

I sighed and wished I'd just gone to the coffee shop down the street. "I don't know. I really try not to mix work and pleasure. I hope you understand."

"Yeah."

I sat there watching as he scooped the coffee into the pot, continuing to pick at the stale donut. My mind was full of everything that needed done. My morning was turning into such a wreck already and it was only eight. I glanced up and watched as the brown liquid slowly dripped down into the pot below. Bryce was going to be pissed that it was taking so long.

 _At least he's getting fresh coffee._

"Why do you let him treat you like shit?"

"It'll look awesome on my resume," I said.

"It's not healthy," he replied.

"He's a career maker."

"He causes mental breakdowns." Robby arched his eyebrows as he turned to the hissing coffee pot.

 _The man has a point._

"Alright. Here you go," he said, handing me the mug.

"Thanks, Robby. Hopefully he'll be happy now." I took the cup, dumped sugar, and almond creamer in it and high tailed it back to the expansive office.

The walk back to Bryce felt like a ten mile hike. My stomach was in knots and I felt like I was going to vomit. _He's giving me an ulcer. I know it. One morning I'm going to wake up vomiting blood._

"Did you have to grow the coffee beans yourself? What the hell took so long?"

"No. There was no coffee. I had to make it," I mumbled, making my way through the door.

"It's fresh. At least you've done something right today, Ms. Troy."

 _Asshole._

I reached for the door knob but stopped. I looked over my shoulder at him. He was antagonizing me. His arms were folded in front of him on his desk around his cup of coffee. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. I could have sworn he was smirking at me.

 _Over a cup of coffee?_

"I won't forget your coffee again," I said through clenched teeth.

"I know you won't." His stern replied sent a shiver down my spine. I wasn't sure if it was a threat.

I often fantasized about tying him to his chair and whipping him. Not hard, just enough to make him shut up and listen to someone else for a change. That website I was on last night had a nice selection of whips. _Don't even start thinking about it, Piper._

"If you need anything else…" I started.

"You're not going just yet, Miss Troy."

 _Of course not._

"What else can I do for you, Mr. Thompson?"

"The board room needs set up for this afternoons luncheon with Sandpepper's Ceo and her board."

"Of course it does."

"Is that attitude?"

"No, Mr. Thompson."

"The spreadsheets need to be copied and bound."

"Of course."

"And I need the caterer called."

"When does this need to be done by?"

"One."

"I never got a memo or email about all of this yesterday."

"It wasn't decided until this morning," he replied.

I managed to get my hand on the handle this time. "Oh, and Piper?"

"Yes, Mr. Thompson?"

"Let's not forget the coffee this time? And not the shit from the office kitchen?"

 _Bastard._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I let Bryce's door close a little harder than I should have behind me.

"That man is absolutely impossible. I swear he is a prick on purpose!"

"What happened?"

"I have to set up the board room for a catered lunch by one," I grumbled, slumping into my seat in front of his door.

"Ouch."

"Plus I have to have all of these files copied and bound by then." I dumped everything on my desk and sighed heavily. "I swear he hates me."

"At least he's not old and ugly like Mr. Winters." Alyssa stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes toward the door by her desk.

"I'd rather have old and ugly."

"And not Mr. Dreamy eyes?"

"Mr. what?"

"Dreamy eyes. You could get lost in those eyes forever! I mean come on how can you not want to stare at him?"

"Calm down, Alyssa."

She bit her lip and looked longingly toward Bryce's office door. "What I wouldn't do to run my hands through his hair and stare into his eyes."

"Oh come on. He's not _that_ good looking."

"Are you kidding me? You hit the hot boss jackpot!"

"He's still a complete douche."

"Yeah, but he's hot." She smiled wickedly.

"When does the doucheness outweigh the hotness?" I asked, letting my chin rest in my hands.

"It doesn't. You simply deal with it." She shook her head and tusked me.

"What if I don't want to deal with it?" I sighed heavily and shook my head. _What am I saying? I can't quit! This job is gold on my resume. Even if I am just a coffee and copy bitch._

"You've already been here six months longer than any other assistant. You have a way with him."

"A way of pissing him off."

"Troy!" His booming voice came through the door.

I let my head fall to the door.

"Oh come on!"

"Get moving, Troy," Alyssa giggled.

"Coming, Mr. Thompson."

"Don't come in! Did you get your ass moving to get that board room set up?"

"I'm going now, Mr. Thompson."

"See ya later." Alyssa whispered.

"Much," I groaned, grabbing the stack of files on my desk, giving her _the look_ , and heading for the elevator.

Bryce Thompson was CEO of Thompson Enterprises, Inc. He was an exceptional entrepreneur and despite his personality he was a major benefactor for my alma mater. He contributed to every charity known to man. How a man who sent his secretaries to the nut house was considered to be such a saint was beyond me.

Stepping out of the elevator I smiled wryly at the security guards who sat at the front desk, then headed out the door into the warm summer morning. The sun had crested the horizon and was shining off the buildings of downtown Pittsburgh. Thompson Enterprises building looked like an enormous black, glass castle in the center of Market Square. It was gorgeous.

 _Fucking, Bryce._ _Maybe I'll get him coffee. That should sweeten him up._

I walked quickly across the square making my way for the closest copy shop. Anywhere that can make thirty copies of the presentation and bind them nicely within two hours. Perhaps deliver them to the office.

The small shop sat on a corner six blocks away. There were always three people on staff and they were fairly efficient. I opened the door and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. The copy shop was packed.

"Are you serious? Why are there so many people?"

I bit my lip and tried to think of some way to get to the front of the line, or at least as close as I could. _This is so wrong, but I need to get up there._

I dropped a few of the files on the floor in front of two guys ahead of me. "Oh excuse me! I'm so sorry."

 _Thank God for pencil skirts!_ I bent down to pick up the colorful pie charts hoping that my endless lunges and squats would pay off.

"Not a problem," one of them said.

"The boss sends me down with all of these files to be copied and bound by one." I shook my head and stood up. "Hold these for a sec?"

"Uh, sure."

"Thanks a bunch." I winked at him and bit my lip a bit as I straightened out my skirt. "Is it straight? Nothing worse than being sloppy for the boss. He hates sloppy employees."

"You look great."

"Good."

"You can, um, go ahead of us. Your boss sounds like a hard-ass."

"You have no idea. I'm Piper by the way." I held out my hand to tall, black haired man.

"I'm Allen."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Allen."

"Where do you work?"

"Thompson Enterprises."

"Oh really? What's that like?" he asked, licking his lips getting close enough to me that I could smell his after shave.

"Very busy."

"Want to get a drink after you get off work?" He put his hand on my shoulder as we stepped forward in line.

I shrugged it off and moved to the side a bit. "Thanks for the offer, but I already have plans."

"Maybe after?"

"I have a very early day tomorrow." I pulled my cellphone out from the pile of papers and put it up to my ear as though I had a call. I shrugged and mouthed a sorry.

I listened for a few long minutes until Allen and the guy he was next to had started chatting again. Once I was sure he no longer had me in his sights I put my cell phone away and made my move. I slowly made my way up the line. Within five minutes I was the front.

"Piper, you're back."

"Hi, Jack," I said, dumping the papers on the counter.

"Same as usual?"

"Thirty by one?"

"For Thompson?"

"Who else?" I asked.

"I'll put it on the account and have everything couriered over to you." The old man smiled warmly at me.

"I owe you, Jack!"

I scurried out of the copy place and made a bee line for Gloria's. It had the best coffee in town and I wanted the asshole on my side. At least for the day. I grabbed the biggest cup of caramel macchiato that I could get.

"Mr. Thompson?" I knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open with my hip. "Everything will be delivered by noon. Here's a proper cup of coffee. I'm going to make calls to Vincent's for catering."

"Mm," he mumbled not even bothering to look up at me.

 _What the fuck?_ I rolled my eyes and headed back to my desk.

"Miss Troy?"

"Yes?"

"Not bad."

I stopped mid-stride and my eyes popped. _Was that a compliment? Did Bryce Thompson just compliment me? Not bad?_

I sat at my desk staring at the rolodex. I knew what I had to do, but I couldn't do it. My brain had melted and felt as though it melted out my ears.

"What's wrong?" Alyssa asked.

"I think Bryce just complimented me."


End file.
